


a different kind of falling

by xiujaemin



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Makeup Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-10-18 22:34:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10626513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xiujaemin/pseuds/xiujaemin
Summary: They fall in love, and fall apart, and try to go back where they were before the fallout.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> originally written for [luminations](http://theluminations.livejournal.com/)  
> i suggest listening to [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e1QmDq4TL6Q) to set the mood of this fic

**27**

Minseok hears a loud ring—once, twice, and then a click. He almost gasps out loud in surprise, because he isn’t expecting the person on the other line to pick up the phone. It was Jongdae’s idea in the first place that he should try calling, but he didn’t think that it would actually work.

“Hello? Who is this?” asks a familiar voice, and Minseok feels something twist in his gut that he pauses momentarily, all words that he has been trying to remember by rerunning them over and over again in his mind merging into one big blur. It’s been so long since he heard that voice that he feels a physical ache inside his chest, as if part of an empty void is beginning to repair itself, sinews pulling out from where they’ve been tucked aside when they’ve been cut off and reconnecting themselves. He squeezes his eyes shut, as if doing so could form a ball of courage that he could physically hold on to so he wouldn’t get nervous and fuck up.

“Luhan? It’s me, Minseok.” He says, voice quivering. He doesn’t know whether it is excitement he feels because now he’s talking with Luhan after almost half a year, or anxiety, for fear of being rejected and ignored. “Can I—“he takes a gulp, forcing down the lump in his throat. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

There’s a pause on the other line and he couldn’t hear anything that he strains his ears, thinking that his phone’s gone haywire at the most crucial moment of his life. He almost starts thinking that Luhan has put down the phone or thrown it away upon hearing his name, but he sighs in relief when there’s a crackle on the other line and Luhan’s voice follows up.

“Yeah, hi. Sorry, but I think you’ve got the wrong number.”

There’s a beep coming from the other line, and they’re disconnected once more.

It’s already 11PM, but there’s still time to count the scars left in his heart from losing Luhan, the only person he thought he would spend what bits of forever he could have  
.

**24**

 

The first time they almost broke up, it’s over lunch in a coffee shop that they both frequent a lot, even during their college days.

Minseok was the type of person to listen more and talk less, but in the middle of the occasional hustle and bustle of a regular Sunday in Seoul, he was uncharacteristically too quiet. Amidst the chatter of the other customers and the stories Luhan tried telling him to fill in the gaps of silence that separated them, he seems uneasy; as if something was bothering him, a thought nagging him behind the back of his mind.

“There’s something bothering you, isn’t there? Come on, just tell me.” Luhan persuades Minseok, hand warm and comforting over his. But he still doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t say out loud what has been bothering him all this time, because he feels guilt gnawing at his core for even thinking about it.

At his unresponsiveness, Luhan squeezes his hand in reassurance and Minseok closes his eyes shut.

_Because that’s all he could do to keep his tears from falling, even if in reality, he’s choking up._

He doesn’t want to betray Luhan’s trust, but there’s that feeling growing inside him every day, telling him that there wasn’t any other way. “Minseok, you know you can tell me anything, right?”

Minseok purses his lips. He knows there isn’t any other way around this but to be straightforward about it, because they’ll only be trying to postpone the inevitable by denying themselves the truth of the entire situation. “I think we need some time from each other. Do other things.”

The grasp on Minseok’s hand loosens, _hesitates_ , and he doesn’t say anything else in addition to what he just said, because he knows no word could ever make up for what he’s doing now.

The hand trembles, the type of coldness that has nothing to do with the weather beginning to seep out of it and into Minseok’s skin. He craves the usual warmth of it, but Luhan completely lets go before he could curl his other hand around it. But he has done this—was the cause of this in the first place, so he isn’t sure if he really is supposed to complain at all.

 

Luhan hears an underlying tone of _let’s stay away from each other as much as possible_ behind Minseok’s words and he doesn’t know how to deal with this either.

“What? Why? Did I do something wrong?” he asks, wracking his brain to try to remember something he said the previous week, or something he might have done that triggered Minseok into thinking this way. He doesn’t come up with any, but he knows there should have been something that made Minseok feel this way. He tries to think back and retrace his steps. Because surely there could have been tell-tale signs that this was going to happen, right?

But he remembers none. Minseok’s responsiveness to his touches and the other’s smiles at his lame jokes definitely did not match to what he’s saying right now, and Luhan’s more confused than ever, because nothing is just making any sense.

“No, it’s just…” Minseok bites his bottom lip, his teeth scraping over the sensitive skin that it’s starting to peel off. He finally looks Luhan in the eye, and all he could see was some form of agony.

_Remorse._

_Regret._

He feels a pang of guilt for putting it there, but he just doesn’t want to lie to Luhan anymore and make him think that everything is all rosy and happy, when to him, it’s clearly not that way anymore.

“Can’t you feel it, Luhan? It’s…gone.”

“No Minseok, nothing is gone. You still have me, and I still have you, right?” Luhan’s hand darts back on top of Minseok’s and now it’s warm to touch, as if it had been set to the right temperature, just enough to make Minseok feel nothing less than comfort.

Minseok doesn’t answer, and there’s a hollow ringing in Luhan’s ears from a question left hanging in the air, the silence that’s stretching between them bothering him. “Right?” he repeats, more to convince himself than to confirm it with Minseok. Nothing’s wrong between the two of them, right? It’s just a misunderstanding.

_Right?_

“I’m sorry…it’s just that—I can’t… _feel_ you anymore. It’s like we’re both here, but we’re actually someplace else that what we had between us back then just… disappeared.”

Even in Minseok’s ears, his own words sound so atrocious and he wants to take it back, tell Luhan that he had been wrong. But he couldn’t. Because even though it felt wrong, it was the truth. Or at least, it felt like it was the truth.

“But what about yesterday? What about last week? What about the other months, years, back then? When… when we had sex and you said that it would only feel right if it’s the two of us, when you told me you loved me and that no matter how many other possibilities there are, you’d still choose me over anyone else. What about those? Have you forgotten?”

“I don’t. I will never forget those.” Minseok grits his teeth. “And that’s what’s making this harder. I can’t live on being like this. Whenever I’m with you, I can feel as if I can have everything I want, that I already _do_ have everything I could ever want. But it’s only barely there, Luhan. It’s just like how I still love you, but it’s not just enough anymore.”

“Is this because you want a new job?” Luhan inquires. “Because if it’s that, we can fix that. There’s nothing too difficult for someone like you, Kim Minseok.” The hope in his voice hurts Minseok much more than any rejection at his previous job applications.

Minseok lets out a hollow laughter, Luhan’s faith in him seeming misplaced in their current situation “I’m not as great as you think I am, Luhan.” It’s absurd, how Luhan still manages to encourage him despite the fact that he’s asking for a break up.

“It’s that, isn’t it?”

Minseok is silent for a moment, contemplative. “The truth is, I’m not really sure, Luhan. Never have I once doubted that I loved you, but there’s just this feeling—“he sighs. “I can’t explain it, really. But at the end of the day, I just want things to be better. I just want to be better.”

“But Minseok, you’re already the best.” Luhan says with an instinctive pout. Minseok shakes his head, a sad smile splaying on his face.

“No. You are, but not me. It couldn’t be me, because I deserve nothing.” This time, it’s him who initiates contact; it’s him who holds Luhan’s hand even though it had usually been Luhan to make the first move between the two of them. Luhan notices this, of course, and he briefly wonders whether this is how Minseok will break it off with him— by doing him one last favor.

“Thank you, thank you for always believing in me. You’re still so nice even though I’m telling you I’m leaving you.” Minseok strains his weight on both of his shoes, muscles coiling together, ready to spring, but not entirely. “But I really need this, Luhan.”

Minseok’s words are gentle, but Luhan could only feel the sting behind it. “No, you can’t do this.” Luhan knows he’s being selfish, but couldn’t Minseok just do this some other way? “After all we’ve been through?” His voice didn’t raise a few octaves higher as he had thought it would, given the situation. But in reality, he feels betrayed. He just wishes that Minseok would think this through.

But Minseok already _had_ thought this through (or so it seems), yet he still doesn’t know which was the better way to deal with this. “Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe what we have isn’t lost. Maybe there’s just something wrong with me.” Minseok mumbles, hanging his head in shame. “Maybe it’s me who’s lost. But I’ll come back to you, I promise.”

He wants to scream. He wants to pull at his hair and run amok, and punch Minseok in the face. But he can’t. He won’t. So instead, he answers in a small voice, as if he were a child afraid of being left alone in the dark by his mother.

“For how long, Minseok?”

“I don’t know, Luhan.” He confesses, shaking his head. “I don’t know.”

 

 

 

They barely manage to get into the room, feet shuffling awkwardly by the doorstep, when Minseok starts peppering Luhan with kisses as if he couldn’t wait for a second longer. Luhan just laughs, not having had seen this much enthusiasm from Minseok in a while, the other’s eagerness matching his own. After months of not seeing each other, their physical interactions never seem to be enough to bridge the month-long gap. But it’s okay, because they have all the time in the world.

_Right?_

They stumble in the dimness of the light, fumbling to close the door immediately when they get their hands back on each other again, and the air smelled like searing passion and lust. Minseok kisses Luhan with fervor as if there wouldn’t be any tomorrows to seal their relationship again, and that this would be the last time they’re going to be with each other at all. Luhan responds with a growl emanating from the back of his throat and pushes Minseok against the wall, locking him in position with both hands gripping firmly at his waist. He is aware of how perfectly their mouths fit together, their paces matching altogether. He runs his tongue against the other’s lips before kissing him with much gusto, enough to leave his lips swollen.

They’re panting hard, breathless under the dim lighting of their shared apartment and Luhan slips his hands underneath the fabric of Minseok’s shirt, fingers exploring the planes of Minseok’s back as if it was newfound territory even if he has it memorized like the back of his hand. Minseok relents to his touch, and Luhan is so turned on by how Minseok is pliant in his arms that he grinds his hips forward, the heat that’s pooling in his belly getting more and more unmanageable.

Minseok grinds back, unable to hide the tent forming in his pants or the arousal from his moans either. Luhan had always seen Minseok as the epitome of perfection. But in moments like this, when he’s calling out for Luhan and telling him to hurry the fuck up, pulling away to peel his shirt off of him when Luhan only responds with a guttural sound and then kisses him again, rubbing his own hardness against Minseok’s, and then dipping his head on the hollow of Luhan’s collarbones, licking, sucking, leaving marks that would mark his territory, Luhan thinks he might believe that Minseok is not just an angel, but a god that has been graced with immaculateness far beyond what is possible.

Luhan tugs at him by the wrist, and before Minseok could ask what he wants, he’s being carried off on his feet and dumped on the bed, the mattress dipping as Luhan crawls over to Minseok, unable to hold it in anymore. Minseok almost laughs, because this Luhan is far from the sweet, doe-eyed boy he’s met back in college who was so confident during their first time having sex that he almost had Minseok convinced that yes, he’s done this before, if only he knew how to stick his dick in. Minseok had just laughed, asking him if he’s okay with them switching positions instead, and Luhan just ducked his head and nodded, embarrassed, thinking his first time would be perfect if only he watched enough porn videos and didn’t say a thing about his inexperience. But there were no complaints after that, because Luhan has only kept craving for Minseok more and more, like a drug that he needed supplied in his bloodstream just so he could keep on living.

“Oh, how manly.” Minseok says, voice dangerously low, and Luhan curses out loud, because Minseok is the only one who could unravel him like this. It’s not long before they’re both completely naked, skipping all the prepping (“Really Minseok, this isn’t like the first time. I know where to stick my dick in now, quit playing.”), and then trying to angle their hips in the right position so they could get better leverage.

They don’t fumble like their first time, or try to hurry things up like when they’re supposed to be doing something else instead. They don’t take it painfully slow either, as is when Minseok’s in the mood for teasing, just to see Luhan get all annoyed and flustered. They set on a rhythm just enough to satisfy their needs; their wants, yet more than enough to elicit moans out of each other’s lips, punctuating with a searing kiss.

It seems to be only a moment ago when Minseok suddenly showed up in his office, dressed in a beanie and a brown jacket that clashed with the white Hello Kitty shirt Luhan remembers giving him on the day of their first anniversary against lack of better judgment, a plastic with take-outs from the nearest Chinese restaurant in his hand.

He had given Luhan an apologetic look, mouth curved in a crooked smile as if he’s preparing to say something but he’s still contemplating on how to properly say it out loud, probably something along the lines of “I told you I’d come back for you, didn’t I?” because Minseok is such a typical dork that way. But Luhan kissed him right away, greetings dying out at the tip of his tongue.

Minseok had responded by smiling in the middle of their kiss, saying “Well hello to you too,” with mirth in his eyes when they break the kiss for air. It had been easy as that, no fuss, no parties. But Luhan has never been thankful upon seeing Minseok again.

Now they’re lying down together, Luhan’s arms around Minseok’s middle and Minseok’s hands on Luhan’s back even when they’re still sticky and full of sweat, and it’s supposed to be gross, because they’ve only just wiped the come off their bodies and it’s too hot to even cuddle, but Minseok thinks they look perfect this way.

Luhan is mumbling something that Minseok couldn’t quite hear, or he’s probably just mouthing against Minseok’s collarbones as he nuzzles his head deeper, nose rubbing against the hickeys that he’s left there. Minseok hums, content at this little piece that they have of forever, when a thought occurs to him, not wanting to delay things any longer.

“Say… Would you mind? Making this real, I mean.”

Luhan squirms in his position to look back at Minseok, sweaty bangs covering most of his eyes. “Mind what?”

He isn’t sure that he understands what Minseok is talking about, so he makes his assumption that the other is talking about their relationship. “And isn’t this real? You’re here, I’m here, we’re together, and we’ve done this a lot of times. What could be more real than that?”

Minseok hesitates, as if he’s thinking whether or not he should continue or not. “I mean, make it official.” He clarifies anyway.

Luhan makes a noise of confusion that seems to be crossing a tired grunt. “Well aren’t we an official couple? God, practically everybody in this town knows about the two of us even before we became an item.”

“Yes, but there’s a way to make it even more official than that, right?” Minseok sounds hopeful, and Luhan isn’t sure if he could turn Minseok down if it comes to the point that wouldn’t be favorable to him.

Luhan’s arms tighten around Minseok, as if he’s trying to shield his heart for whatever Minseok will say. He knows he’s not supposed to be nervous, because it’s not like Minseok’s implying that he wants them to breakup like the last time they talked, but he couldn’t help but feel an internal turmoil, panic rising to his chest, his heart beating a little too out of rhythm. “Say it straight to the point, Kim Minseok, I don’t have time for your mind games.”

“What I’m trying to say is,” Minseok sighs, his eyelids fluttering close as if telling Luhan “ _God, can you just please stop being ignorant for a moment?_ ” He opens his eyes and looks down to find Luhan looking up at him expectantly, as if the other man is handing over his own heart to him, telling him to take care of it. Minseok tries not to disappoint, because he only wants Luhan to be pleased. “Will you marry me?”

And it’s not the most romantic setting—not the most conventional one either, to be quite accurate, sweat slicking their bodies and their breathing only starting to get back to normal from the high—but something pricks at Luhan’s heart that he almost cries out loud in joy, because really, he could never have asked for more.

“You should’ve done better, you know.” He still says out loud, enjoying how Minseok grumbles about him being too demanding and rolls his eyes. “Set up a rooftop dinner, put in some candles around, and then handed me flowers before eating. And then we could’ve been talking in the middle of dinner about how we first met, or recall how bad the DJ was during our prom but we still happened to enjoy it, and then you just suddenly drop down to one knee, take out a velvety box and open it to reveal a ring, and then just pop the question.”

“Well geez, then you should’ve been the one to propose.” Minseok heaves a sigh, giving up, because he knows that he should’ve made it special—should’ve just waited a little while longer instead of this moment, so everything would be set and Luhan couldn’t reject him at all.

Luhan touches his cheek lightly, patting it. “Nah, I don’t think I can pull it off as sweetly as you.”

Minseok doesn’t say anything for a moment, but Luhan could tell that he was blushing. Maybe because he was embarrassed for the cheesy things that Luhan kept saying, but maybe it was also because he’s really just fond of that thought, that Luhan still thinks of him that way, but would hate to admit it. “Well I _was_ supposed to ask you during dinner since I took the liberty of buying us take-outs, but the food has probably gone cold. And I just couldn’t wait to ask you. I’m sorry it isn’t as romantic as you wanted it to be.” He confesses, and Luhan almost laughs and pinches his cheeks because he’s just so endearing.

“No Minseok,” Luhan shakes his head with a smile, and hugs Minseok tighter despite the heat. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. And frankly, I don’t think I could ever say no.”

“Thank you,” Minseok whispers into his ear, hugging him back.

Nothing might have gone according to Minseok’s plan, and some things might have fallen out of place and not work out, but Luhan doesn’t care. Because to him, this moment right here is perfect.

“What have you been doing while you were away?” was the first thing Luhan says to break the silence of the room over breakfast the next day. They’ve been skittering around the topic, but Minseok knows that it’s Luhan’s right to know what he has been up to these past few months. He owes Luhan that much, after all. “Have you been…meeting other people?”

Minseok reaches out and drags his arm across Luhan’s back before placing it on his shoulder. Luhan leans in to the touch, resting his head against Minseok’s shoulder and sighing comfortably. And it feels just right, because probably, it was just meant to be there in the first place.

“You know SOPA? That school for idols?’

“Don’t tell me you auditioned to be an idol and then the company told you to go to school there.” Luhan jokes, but it _is_ kind of possible.

“No,” Minseok scoffs. “But I did manage to get a job there. It’s hard not to meet new people once you work in a school. But the thing is, it made me realize more how much I needed you. Every time a student would come to me and ask me about the books published during the Joseon Dynasty, I would remember you sleeping in the library instead of studying for our exam in Korean Literature. Every time my co-workers ask me to have at least a glass of soju with them on a Friday night, I remember when you got drunk and kept shaking that pillow because you thought it was me. Every time I would sit down to write on my lesson plan, I would see a bunched up paper crane that’s been kept pressed in-between the pages, and I would always remember the time you gave it to me and asked if I believed in destiny, because you did, and that maybe we were meant to be.”

“My point is, even when I did enjoy the company of those people, none of them were you. And I guess it would never work out with someone else but you.” Minseok finishes, carding a hand through Luhan’s hair.

Luhan nuzzles his head in Minseok’s neck, puffs of his breath sending shivers down the latter’s spine. “God Minseok, I was only asking if you went out with someone while you were away. I didn’t know you could get this cheesy.”

“I would stop, but you probably want this anyway.” A laugh bubbles up in Minseok’s throat. “You know I’m an easy person to talk to.”

It was a nice suggestion; a cheesy Minseok to compensate for all the grossly cheesy lines Luhan had used back in the days, but Luhan would much rather have the usual Minseok.

Luhan kisses him even though none of them has finished eating breakfast yet.

 

**23**

 

“Minseok, what if we've met differently? Would you still have loved me then?” The question just suddenly comes out of Luhan’s mouth that Minseok almost chokes at his own spit.

They’re sitting side-by-side in the library, reviewing for upcoming their final exam in Korean Literature (which can be alternatively known as “that one subject they’re taking together this year”, as Jongdae has always referred to it), with Minseok flipping through the last few pages of the book because he’s actually reading the text and not absentmindedly staring at the words in a haze just like Luhan is doing so the question takes him aback quite a few steps.

Minseok slides in a slip of a blank sheet of paper in-between the pages of the book to serve as a bookmark before closing it, because he knows Luhan will probably take up most of his attention anyway. “Why’d you ask?” He says, answering Luhan’s question with another question.

Luhan buries his left cheek on top of the book he’s been supposedly reading (supposedly, because he’s only ever flipped through the book and checked how many pages he’s supposed to read before giving up and just staring at the same page for 10 minutes straight without even absorbing anything at all) and looks at Minseok through his eyelashes. “Nothing, I was just thinking.”

“You’re thinking too much.” Minseok reaches out and runs a hand through his hair, the gesture sending chills down Luhan’s spine. The black roots of his hair looks contrastingly dark as compared to the lightness of the blonde he had his hair dyed in, but despite the chemicals, his hair is still soft. He’s probably going to re-dye his hair anyway in a month or so (back to shades of brunette, probably, because he’s never to settle on a single hair color for a very long time), but it would still probably be as fluffy as Minseok remembers it to be.

“But I just wanted to know what you thought. Come on, tell me.”

“Well, let’s think of it this way,” Minseok shifts in his seat, so he’s facing Luhan better. “There’s a varying realm of possibilities out there: shifting, waiting, changing. But we have this instead of something else, and I have you instead of someone else. And even if there are a thousand and one other alternatives out there, I still think I’d like this realm better. And if this isn’t what you call fate, I don’t know what is.”

Luhan chuckles at the seriousness in his tone, as if he was giving a seminar in the lecture hall instead of just talking with his boyfriend. “And you say too much.”

“Well, as you said before: We’re perfect for each other, aren’t we?”

 

**25**

 

The second time they almost break up, Luhan is poring through an arrangement of suits that he’s supposed to go through to pick one for their wedding.

“It’s just the pre-wedding jitters,” Jongdae had said when Minseok came in, telling Luhan that he isn’t sure about this, after all. But Minseok had looked at them both with such a sullen expression on his face that Jongdae had decided to just step out of it, declaring that it was none of his business even though he was the best man and it was probably part of his business.

“I’m serious, Luhan. I’m nervous, yes, but I don’t think we’re still both ready for this.” Minseok fidgets from where he’s standing, shifting his weight from foot-to-foot. “Can we… Call the wedding off?”

“...or maybe just postpone it for a bit?” he adds in a haste when he sees Luhan’s crestfallen expression. It’s written all over his face how much he’s been looking forward to the wedding, and Minseok would be lying if he said that he wasn’t too, but his mind is just full of indecisions and insecurities and—he’s not even sure where he’s supposed to begin.

“But you were the one who proposed!” Luhan almost screams in frustration. Why couldn’t have Minseok told him earlier? Why couldn’t have Minseok grabbed him by the wrist, looked him right in the eye and said, “ _I’m sorry, but I can’t do it,_ ” right from the very beginning? Why had Minseok even popped the question in the first place?

“I know, and it was stupid of me. I mean, it was stupid of me to rush things,” he adds in explanation when a look of pain flashes through Luhan’s eyes as if he’s been physically slapped by Minseok. “It’s not like I regret being with you, Luhan; I don’t. You are the best thing that has ever happened in my life, and I’m really sorry that this had to happen. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” He’s stumbling over his apologies, tears starting to fall from his eyes. And Luhan knows that it’s a really crappy way to apologize, crying in the middle of saying sorry, but Minseok means it, means every word coming out of his mouth; takes every apology out of his heart.

And how could Luhan even say “ _No, I can’t accept your apology,_ ” when Minseok means so much more to him than the act of becoming one permanently? How can he turn his back on Minseok, when he’s all that Luhan wants; when he’s all that Luhan could ever have hoped for? Minseok meant much more to him than any marriage or wedding would ever mean to someone else.

So he hugs Minseok, tears staining his dress shirt. His embrace is warm, welcoming, forgiving, that Minseok is overwhelmed and he cries harder, with Luhan rubbing soothing circles on his back, whispering that “ _It’s okay, I’m not mad. It’s okay Minseok, don’t cry anymore._ ” And he smells so much like home that Minseok doesn’t even know why he did that; what took over him to deny them of this piece of reality that could string them together permanently, bind them together for as long as they live, even when he knows that he wouldn’t mind—even when he knows that if there was such a thing as an eternity, he’d gladly spend it with Luhan.

Luhan squeezes Minseok arm in reassurance that they would be fine, that everything would be alright, but even he knows that their relationship wouldn’t be the same as it had used to be.

 

**26**

 

The fourth time it happens, however, they actually do break up.

Luhan is sitting on a chair that the owner had boasted back then to be 100% made out of mahogany inside a fancy restaurant that has quite some great food on their menu but isn’t that famous yet in their neighborhood, and he tries not to settle on the fact that this is the fifth time that he’s checked his watch for the past thirty minutes.

_Surely, Minseok couldn’t have forgotten that it’s their anniversary, right?_

_He’s probably just busy with his work._ Luhan waves off, trying not to delve into the nitty-gritty facts anymore.

“Sir, are you still not ready to order?” a waiter comes up to him, a laminated copy of the standard menu in his hands.

“I’m still waiting for someone.” Luhan smiles dryly. “But it won’t be long before he comes.” _I guess,_ he almost wants to say, but he avoids thinking of how true it could be. The waiter leaves with a respectful bow, but not before Luhan saw the look in his eyes bordering around pity as if to say that Luhan looked pitiful sitting there, waiting for someone that would never probably come.

Usually Luhan would say that that’s impossible, because Minseok always, _always_ keeps his promises. He came back even after he left, right? And he never left after that, because he promised Luhan. And he’s never failed to show how apologetic he was after they cancelled the wedding, trying his best to make it up to Luhan in every way possible.

But right now, from the ten messages with varying degrees of asking Minseok where he could probably be and if he could still make it, followed up by fourteen missed calls that Luhan has been trying to put up with for the past forty minutes

 _He’s forgotten you,_ the thought nags at the back of his mind.

 _He hasn’t. He’s really just busy._ He tells himself.

 _Busy enough to forget your fifth anniversary? How sad,_ the voice sneers, and Luhan fists his hands over his thighs, because that’s all he could do to fend off the frustration that’s building up inside of him.

Luhan hopes, and hopes, and _hopes,_ because he knows that Minseok would always come back for him. So he waits, and waits, and _waits_ … until the rain starts to pour, and his vision is blurred by the heavy pelts of water sliding off of the glass door, where he’s been staring at for the past hour.

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Minseok wouldn’t come—would never come, and he’d just been a fool to wait for someone who would never get around.

So he stands up, his bones creaking from the past hour he’s spent sitting alone, missing the part of their story when they were just falling for each other; when nothing else mattered but the two of them being together, and no one else’s opinion could affect what they shared.

But his heart, though heavy with disappointment, believes otherwise.

“I—I understand,” Minseok says, even though he’s struggling to process the idea of Luhan leaving him. The ring that Luhan gave him back feels cold against the skin of his palm, and he closes his fingers over it, feeling the cold bite of the metal on his skin. “I should’ve called you earlier to tell you that I’ve been caught up in a meeting, but I didn’t, because it slipped my mind. And I know it doesn’t change anything, but still, I’m really sorry. Not just for this, but for everything.”

“I’m sorry for being an asshole. I’m sorry for leaving you back then just because I was confused. I’m sorry for asking you to call off the wedding because I felt like I wasn’t ready yet, even though I knew it in my bones that you were the one. I’m sorry for letting every opportunity slip past me, even when all you’ve been doing is to try to be understanding. I’m sorry for not being able to keep all of my promises. I’m sorry I turned out to be the one who’s hurting you instead, when I promised you that I would take care of you and protect you.”

The words that Luhan wants to say back taste bitter in his tongue and he wants to spit them out, to shout them back at Minseok, but he holds them back and chokes on them instead. "Some things are just made to end," he says instead, looking away.

He doesn't want to meet Minseok's eyes. He doesn't want to see the look of betrayal from his own expression being reflected in those same eyes that used to look at him so lovingly, especially when he knows that they could have done something to avoid this.

“..and probably, our ending was just meant to be this way."

Minseok smiles at him sadly, cocking his head to the side, looking thoughtful. "I really miss the old us. But I guess we can’t get back to that, can we?"

Luhan finds it hard to swallow the lump in his throat. It’s tempting, the thought of starting over again. Scrapping the ugly and torn pages of their story and adding in a new one, still blank, a lot of free space to be written on. “Not—not after this. Things are different now, Minseok.”

Minseok nods. “I understand.” He does, because he knows this was his fault. Luhan had been nothing but kind to him, but he just had to be covered up in all of his confusion. But in his heart, he still hopes.

_Why can’t we just let these memories remain as memories? Why can’t we just leave them there and forget them all? Why can’t they all just disappear?_

_Why can’t we just start over again?_

It doesn’t matter, anyway. It’s over before they could think about it much.

Luhan’s gone out the door, his belongings in hand before Minseok gets to string up another set of apologies. It isn’t long before Minseok has packed up too, putting the apartment up for sale.

Nobody wants to remember what happened there, anyway.  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They fall in love, and fall apart, and try to go back where they were before the fallout.

22

 

Minseok knows that the first time they met was one of the very generic stories of typical college guys knowing each other from this one class they have together for one semester, sharing passing glances and quiet nods in acknowledgement, and then hitting it off with one event that made them grow closer. That part has never been fun to talk about at all, but it’s a given that he’s quite fond of retelling how they actually got to talk to each other outside the bounds of schoolwork and the occasional greetings out of respect, even if it was kind of embarrassing.

Luhan would still always profusely apologize whenever this story is retold, but Minseok only laughs, thinking it’s adorable how Luhan still looks as sheepish as he did that day when they first actually talked to each other.

He doesn’t tell anyone about how they got together though. He still thinks that it’s something he wants to hold on to—to keep to himself. He wants to have something that only he and Luhan knows, but that would only probably happen if Luhan shuts his mouth for once about how adorable of a boyfriend Minseok is, never failing to make him flush to the roots of his hair.

It actually starts out like any other day—there’s no rain to share an umbrella for (and probably kiss underneath it) or snow where they could have snowball fights and lie on the cold ground to make snow angels together, or cherry blossoms falling so they could walk hand-in-hand by the park, admiring the scenery. It wasn’t even night time, and the atmosphere wasn’t highly romantic. Truth be told, it wasn’t even a romantic setting at all. There was only just the scorching heat of the sun on a hot day a few weeks before the beginning of summer break, the high temperature leaving beads of sweat that are quick to form on Minseok’s forehead and neck that he stopped bothering to wipe them off anymore. He’s heading to the library, alone, backpack slung over both of his shoulders, when he gets that feeling of someone watching him.

On other occasions, he would have freaked out, running straight to a crowded place to lose that person in a maze of mobs, but doesn’t need to take a glance to know who this person is. He stops walking, thankful for the fact that there wasn’t anyone within the vicinity that was within earshot, because he would’ve looked like an idiot if his hunches were wrong. “Come on Luhan, I know you’re hiding there.” He says in a loud voice, his words almost reverberating back at him in an echo from the silence shrouding the entire place.

“No I’m not!” Luhan denies quickly, voice rising in defiance, and he almost visibly slaps his own forehead for having such a slip-up.

“Really Luhan, really?” Minseok says, clucking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, but there isn’t any disapproval in his expression at all. In fact, he’s smiling. But Luhan doesn’t see this, so Minseok schools his expression into a serious one when Luhan finally decides to give up the charades with an exasperated sigh and a dispirited, “Fine,” stepping out of an old tree whose large trunk has kept him hidden from view up until a while ago.

“It’s scary how you know that I’m following you. It’s like you’ve got this radar attached to your head, looking out for me.” Luhan mumbles, head bent low in shame, but Minseok doesn’t quite hear it.

“And?” Minseok asks, eyebrows raised.

Luhan tries to not look too disappointed; not to look too guilty. “And what?”

Minseok taps a well-polished shoe on the dry ground, and his shoes start getting dusty too. “Care to explain yourself?”

“Why would I need to explain myself? You’re not going to answer my question, anyway.”

Minseok sighs, because why can’t just Luhan listen to him for once? “I already told you I—“

“Just tell me Minseok—is it a yes or a no? It’s as simple as that.” Luhan cuts him off, impatient, and Minseok hasn’t seen him looking this uneasy before. He bites his bottom lip and the action draws Luhan’s attention away from his eyes and into his mouth. 

“I like you, but you know I can’t. I need to focus on my studies for now. I really need to graduate on time.”

“Then it’s a yes!” Luhan shouts with a cheer.

“Luhan, did you not hear what I just said?” Minseok asks in disbelief.

“Yeah, I did. I have perfect hearing, and I just heard you say you liked me too!” Luhan says with a shit-eating grin, and Minseok regrets that he’s ever said that at all.

“Luhan, can you not behave like this right now.” Minseok drags a hand across his face with a groan at the impossibility of Luhan’s case. “I’m being serious here.”

“Well I’m being serious too,” Luhan grabs his hand for emphasis. “I like you, you like me, let’s put two and two together and not make this complicated, shall we?”

“If you insist. He says with a small smile. “But let me warn you, I almost always stay in the library whenever I get a vacant time.”

“Library dates. Wonderful.” Well a lot of even worse things could have been in the middle of them all, but Luhan’s okay with that. “And it’s almost summer! You’re not only going to study all summer, aren’t you?” he asks Minseok, sounding doubtful, because it’s just like Minseok to study even during the summer, but not so much that he’s letting himself delve deep into his books and notes that he’ll forget to go out with his friends whenever they invite him over to play video games or to eat out. Minseok only gives him a laugh as an answer.

“Okay then, it’s set.” Luhan claps his hands together once, as if they’ve been having a meeting for a project they’re doing for one of their classes and he’s just finished assigning committee members. “It’s not like we’re getting married already, geez. I’m willing to take things painfully slow for you, Minseok.” He says with a wink.

“That was both cheesy and perverted in all the worst ways possible.” Minseok comments, but he’s laughing, and the smile he has on is one of the most carefree ones that Luhan has ever seen on him.

He decides he loves that smile of Minseok’s the most.

 

28

 

When they meet again, things are different. But not quite so.

Minseok is in the school supplies section of the mall, looking for a new notebook to write his annotations in, having had filled his old one from each end. He’s still quite choosy in picking his materials, a habit that hasn’t died down even when he’s nearing thirty. He isn’t sure if it’s a good quality of his or not, most especially when he suddenly bumps into someone he hasn’t seen for almost two years. In his search for a notebook, he finds something else instead.

Or in this case, someone. Someone who he hasn’t quite talked to in a long time.

Luhan looks far better now than when they were still together. He’s gained quite a bit of weight, but it isn’t that bad type of weight gain, just enough to fill his body in that he looks more around his age now instead of the pre-pubescent teenager that everyone else thinks he still is at first glance. The circles in his eyes disappeared.

He’s happier, maybe. Minseok doesn’t know how to put it any other way.

Minseok gapes, because he hadn’t known that Luhan would still be in this part of town. Especially when the last time they saw each other, he seemed greatly intent in forgetting anything that had to with their relationship.

And Luhan didn’t know why he’s still stayed, when he could so much as easily go back to Beijing and live there. It wouldn’t have been hard—his family was there, who would always support him in whatever endeavors he had, now that they’ve realized that even though he might get hurt with the decisions he makes, he doesn’t regret any of them; not even Minseok. His friends, he knows, would back him up if he does end up in a sticky situation.

He knows that his home is right there, in Beijing, but he just might have made a home as well here, in Seoul, with Kim Minseok. And even if they’re separated, there was still this driving force that kept him rooted there, telling him no, it’s still not time to leave, just wait a little longer. And maybe this was that moment, the right time for them to decide what to do from then on.

“Hi,” Minseok says, his voice almost coming to a stutter. It’s hesitant, awkward, even, but it’s a first. There is hesitance in Luhan’s eyes, Minseok is sure of it, but he finally breaks the silence that followed. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you that time, when you called.” 

He knows he doesn’t need to explain further, because despite the fact that it’s been a year since that has happened, he knows that Minseok would know.

And of course, Minseok would remember. How would he forget, when he still remembers the cold feeling of rejection, like cold water being splashed into his face just as he has woken up to reality? How could he forget everything that had to do anything with Luhan, when he still remembers the lingering feeling of Luhan’s warm lips against his during the first time they kissed? “It’s okay, I don’t blame you for reacting that way.” 

“At least I got to hear your voice,” was what he actually meant to say.

Luhan looks away, looks at everything but Minseok. He knows they did this both to each other, but as usual, it’s him who’s affected the most. “Are you free? I still owe you a conversation, after all.” He says, picking an imaginary lint from the hem of his shirt.

Minseok reaches out, about to touch him lightly in the shoulder – shove him playfully, maybe – but he doesn’t. He lowers his hand back to his sides before Luhan could even notice the slight movement. But he’s a fool to think that the other man didn’t notice at all, and it sends a sharp pang into his heart. “I owe you a date, right?”

In every possible way, Minseok remembered that they were perfect.

In every possible way, Luhan remembered that they could have been what Romeo and Juliet weren’t. That they didn’t need to die together to prove their love for one another, but rather spend what little parts of forever they had, for as long as they lived.

But of course, it doesn’t exactly go the way things are planned.

 

Minseok pushes the opened lid of the can of beer into his mouth, and the cold liquid that rushes into his throat makes him almost shiver, adding up to the coldness of the air. It’s autumn, and clearly, he should’ve worn something thicker. But how could he have known that he was going to stay out at night with his ex-lover instead of going straight to his own apartment, anyway?

Luhan tips his own head back to drink, letting the taste of the fluid settle in his tongue first before swallowing it. The Han River isn’t exactly the setting that he’d hoped for, the place sometimes crowded with lovers who are actually still together (which he and Minseok clearly aren't anymore). It reminds him of their past and all the bittersweet memories that run along those lines, but he thinks it’s okay enough. In their spot by the riverbank, where you couldn’t see most of the people if you don’t turn your head around, it’s peaceful.

He doesn’t know if it’s courage that pushed him to say something or if the alcohol was finally running through its effects, but he’s the first to speak. He always was. 

"When I walked out of our apartment, I couldn’t help but think that this is it, it’s over. It’s all over, and I didn’t even do anything about it. I thought about how we promised each other that we’d always be together, but look at where it got us. We made promises that we thought would always last forever, but lost them in a blink of an eye.” Luhan confesses. “The days passed, and I thought I could just forget everything, but I only wanted you.” He peeks at Minseok through his bangs (his hair has gotten really long, he thinks distractedly. He should probably cut it soon) “I could only want you."

“Does that mean,” Minseok almost chokes, words tumbling out of his mouth before he could even stop them. “That you still love me?”

“You want the truth, Minseok?” Luhan exhales loudly. “Because the truth is, in that whole year, I spent every time missing you. But the thing is, until now, I still don't think it was a waste of time." And Luhan’s finally, finally looking at him again. Looking him in the eye, with that expression that he’s grown to familiarize with. It’s the same expression he wore back when he told Minseok “I love you”, not because he wanted to hear it being said back, but just for the sake of saying it.

Minseok opens his mouth to speak, but closes it again. Opens, and closes. His lips tremble. He stops with a sigh. Luhan just gives him a crooked smile, raising his own can of beer as if to encourage Minseok.

And Minseok tries to get some of that courage himself by downing all of the contents of his beer can in one go. What’s keeping him from saying anything, anyway?

Fear, maybe. Being ignored, most likely. Rejection, probably. Trying and failing again, to put it quite accurately.

To hell with it, Minseok thinks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Because after all these years, after all those relationships that didn’t work out before he met Luhan, he has realized that the pain of not knowing hurts far more than the pain of rejection.

"Can I be honest with you too, Luhan?” he asks. But even when Luhan doesn’t respond, distractedly staring at something in his face, eyes glazing over as if he’s stuck a few galaxies away, Minseok still continues. “I still think of you sometimes, and I try to tell myself that it doesn't hurt anymore, but who am I kidding?"

Luhan purses his lips, still not taking his eyes off of Minseok, as if the moment he looks away, Minseok would vanish into thin air, never to return again. "You know what, I dreamt last night that you came back, and that you said that you were sorry, and that I hugged you, and that everything was okay," he pauses, sighing as if in defeat. "That we were okay. Even when I woke up, I kept convincing myself that it was real."

Minseok couldn’t blame Luhan. He had dreams like that, too. But the thing is, in his dreams, he never left Luhan in the first place. In his dreams, they were still the perfect couple. But his dreams will only forever remain as dreams if he never does anything about it. “But we can make it real.”

Luhan gives out a hollow laugh, as if the suggestion wasn’t that bad, but still not enough. “Can we, really?”

And Minseok gets bolder in his actions, finally reaching out to Luhan to touch his shoulder, if only lightly. But Luhan doesn’t flinch away, doesn’t seem to register the action as going far from an imaginary line that Minseok has set between them, not wanting to displease Luhan any further. He doesn’t know that Luhan craved his touch— had been controlling himself to not jump on Minseok the first time they saw each other again, even.

“You probably think that things didn’t work out because we really aren’t for each other, and like other couples, we grow apart and grow tired of each other.” He tries explaining. “But I didn’t grow tired of you. I never stopped loving you at all. It’s just… I didn’t know what to do. I was happy with you, but my mind was a mess.”

And Luhan’s lips quirk if only the slightest bit to form a smile. 

“To be honest, I didn’t know either.”

Minseok knows he shouldn’t hope, but it kind of feels like Luhan is giving him a second chance.

“It’s just...” Minseok huffs, frustrated. He isn’t really good with talking about feelings, choosing to listen to other people and show his own affections through actions. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I know no matter how many times I get to tell you I’m sorry, I can never take it back, and it’ll never quite be the same, but I just want you to know that I’m sorry, and I regret every moment that I’ve let you down.”

“I know,” Luhan says, giving him a genuine smile this time—a smile that he has always loved. “I’ve forgiven you already. A long time ago, even before you said sorry. Even before I completely walked out of that apartment. Even when I didn’t answer your call.”

There’s silence after that, but it’s not awkward. It’s befitting, somehow. But it would only last a few moments before Luhan gets sick of the peace and starts asking Minseok questions about how his life had been. And Minseok would ask him back, not to be polite, but because he’s genuinely curious. 

This is how they find themselves entangled in each other’s lives once more.

And then Luhan feels tingles in his nerves again, prompting him to ask what Minseok thinks. So he does just that. 

“Do you think we could have gotten back together again if only we tried?”

Minseok hums a short, quiet tune that Luhan remembers waking up to that he’s kind of automatically associated it with bright mornings and home. “Maybe. Maybe not. Really, who knows? But it’s not something we should be dwelling in anymore, because it’s all in the past. You’re happy now, I guess, and I’m—“he pauses. How could he perfectly describe what kind of life he’s leading right now in just one word? Miserable? A wreck?

There a lot more options coming from an array of words associated with great deals of sadness, but he realizes that he’s not really sad. Lonely, maybe. In love with Luhan, still quite so. But definitely not regretful of having had known Luhan. “Content.” He says, with a smile. Because as sappy as it may sound, in all honesty, he’s happy seeing Luhan happy. “We shouldn’t let the past settle back in our lives and hinder us from taking a step forward—from stopping us from seeing what the future might exactly bring.”

Luhan smirks. How could Minseok even think that he’s happy, when this is the first time they’ve spoken to each other in over a year?

But he isn’t exactly sad, either. And he couldn’t say that he regrets anything at all. When Minseok left, he tried leaving his comfort zone, too. He tried out different jobs part-time, met new people who he mostly became fast friends with. He went out exploring things that he hasn’t tried before (so long as it was legal, because he didn’t want to disturb one of his friends in the middle of the night to get him bailed out of jail when they might as well have went to a noraebang instead), never would’ve dared try for the sake of Minseok’s sanity. But in that time, he was free.

“Spoken like a true literature graduate. Seriously Minseok, you’re still a nerd.” Luhan playfully punches him in the arm, and they laugh. They laugh at how ironic it is that they were once friends, and past lovers, and now friends again from an unspoken agreement, somehow. They laugh at how stupid they had been for letting each other go and not holding on tighter.

They laugh, because it would be no use to cry for what could have been.

They were perfect for each other, but they just couldn’t be together that way anymore. At least, not right now. So instead, they settle for what they have left and try to mend the gaps that the past has left behind.

 

21

 

To be fair, Minseok really didn’t know it was coming until it hit him. Quite literally, actually.

He was half-sprinting, half-jogging to get to the soccer field, where all the other members of the football team were either already going through warm-ups or about to begin with the drills. Their coach is probably checking his wristwatch now, scanning the team members for his face, because he knows that Minseok was never late, never went missing, never had to take a pass from practice. But this day is different, because he just had to misplace his cleats, and he’s trying to run discreetly, because running in the hallways wasn’t permitted.

He barely registers the presence of two other people in front of him, and he’s swerving to the left to make a turn to exit the doors of the campus when it happens.

The blow was made before Minseok could even notice the hand in front of his face and react, and the force hits him greatly that he almost reels back, stumbling, but not completely toppling over yet. Fortunately, Minseok is able to regain his balance and he blinks, stars dotting his vision. The floor seems to be moving, and clearly, that’s not a telltale sign of anything good happening at all.

And then all of a sudden a hand is on his back, worried shouts from a different language he didn't understand coming from the person, as if he was telling someone to scram and go get paramedics. Or at least, that was what Minseok hoped.

"I'm sorry! I'm really sorry!" he finally says in fluent Korean that Minseok briefly wonders whether he really has spoken in a different language earlier. He looks up, hands still cupped over half of his face, still unable to completely process if this is really happening or not. It probably is though, judging from the stinging pain blooming in his nose.

And when they meet eye-to-eye, Minseok takes note of his features, realizing that there he is, that guy from his psychology class, worry wrinkling his features. And the guy who boisterously laughed during that one lesson on dreams seemed so far away now. Even so, he still has that fragile, innocent look about him, but his gaze is strong, holding Minseok in place.

The world stops spinning and Minseok is able to clearly focus his eyes on the person in front of him, and it’s as if Luhan is the only other person there. Call it cheesy, but he isn’t tweaking the story to add a romantic effect when he says that during that moment, it’s as if everything falls into a monochromatic shade, and Luhan is the only person in Technicolor, clear and bright, and everything is bland and lifeless compared to the person right in front of him now. He knows his place, and he makes a promise to shut up whenever his friends are watching romantic flicks, because it feels like he’s experiencing one for himself right now.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! Are you alright?" Minseok almost rolls his eyes, but his head hurts, and it wouldn’t be one of the good things to attribute to making a great first impression. It was then that he affirmed that not everyone could have it all; a good example of which being that Luhan was, for lack of any better words, fairly stupid. “I just got hit in the face, of course it hurts,” he almost points out, but he doesn't say the obvious out loud and instead opts to say, "I think you broke my nose." which was, fairly enough, a summarized version of the whole truth.

Thankfully, Luhan was smart enough to not poke around for more details, volunteering to accompany Minseok straight to the infirmary, where he said he had his friend call the attention of the school nurse to get some supplies ready.

Are you awake?” was the first thing that Minseok hears when he wakes up. He was told by the infirmary’s nurse to take a rest and he complied, thinking that the pain would somehow ease when he gets some rest, but it isn’t entirely true.

He wonders for a moment if the person asking him has peas instead of a brain or whether the said person just likes pointing out the obvious, but he doesn’t want to be disrespectful, given that this person just went out of his way to accompany him to the infirmary (even if it was his fault in the first place).

The guy scuffles closer to the bed where Minseok is lying down, helping him out as he props himself up into a sitting position. In the middle of the treatment, he remembers falling asleep; the stinging pain in his nose having seemed to have reached his head, too. He blames himself for not observing well before running around in his hurry, but mostly he blames this weird guy who’s now looking at him... well, weirdly.

“I’m sorry I hit you in the face. It was an accident, really. I was telling this story to my friend about how I—“ he begins, and Minseok notices that he’s quite actually cute, but his nose still hurts and he doesn’t have enough patience for this, so he raises his hand up in a gesture to make the man stop.

“It’s okay, I get it. Luhan, right?” he plucks out the name from one of his memories during some day in class that their professor actually did a roll call, and Luhan nods enthusiastically. “Right. And I’m Minseok. Okay, so uh… Don’t worry about it. We were both not being careful. It’s not entirely your fault alone.”

“Okay… but can I tell you my story?” Luhan tilts his head to the side, as if he’s some child from one of the kids show Minseok used to watch. Curious, maybe. Thinking of the next ways to plot world domination, most likely. Going through plans to ruin Minseok’s life, quite possibly.

Minseok squints, looking dubious. “What story?”

“The story that I was telling my friend, of course!” and even before Minseok could refuse, Luhan’s already launching on about how he was in this record store the other day to look for a copy of some album his professor told them to get hold of for a project in music class after having eaten lunch from a nearby restaurant, and he really wasn’t feeling that well and—

And honestly, why is Minseok even listening to his endless tirade of nonsensical storytelling, when he could be out there, back in the field, playing football? Except that he knows it deep inside himself that he likes this, likes Luhan’s babbles, likes the endless one-sided chatter that’s lulling him to a state of peacefulness. It’s amusing, really. A little adorable, even. But Minseok wouldn’t admit of his fondness.

At least, not yet.

And it’s as if the planets have aligned perfectly and everything has fallen in their right places, because even though he’s just been hit in the face, Minseok feels content.

“I’m glad I found you.” Luhan suddenly says, following the short pause after he has finished telling his story. And it the words barely register in his mind before he lets them out, and he is surprised by the boldness of his choice of words.

“I’m glad you found me, too. Even if you did break my nose.” Minseok smiles, and it’s not one of those full smiles that show all of his teeth and pink gums, but Luhan knows that it would be enough.

Minseok knows he’s going to get scolded by their coach for not attending today’s practice at all, but Luhan’s smile is warm and comforting, and maybe that’s all he really needs.

 

29

 

They’re not the same, but they’re not exactly opposites either. Rather, Minseok fills in for the gaps that Luhan forgets, and Luhan eases in to cover up the spaces in-between that Minseok leaves. Clearly, they’re perfect for each other, and nothing could ever break them apart.

Except that of course, no matter how perfect a love story could be, there’s always something dragging them both, making them fall out, and fall apart.

Mostly, it’s just that tiny little speck of a word that separates them from being perfect together—almost.

But they can fix it, right?

Right?

Nobody would know, but the look they give each other says that they probably can.

“You know what, Luhan? I think we deserve a second chance.” Minseok says over a cup of coffee. They’re there again, in the same place where they used to hang out back in college. Except things have changed, but not really.

Not entirely.

“Are you saying that you can teach me how to love again?” There’s an amused smile on Luhan’s lips, but he doesn’t sound like he’s teasing. Hopeful, maybe. A little wistful, even.

“I don’t know, but I can try. We can try.” And Minseok hopes again, after quite a long time.

“Are you sure about that?”

“No,” Minseok looks down at their hands lying on top of the coffee table, only a few centimeters apart. He could reach out and put a comforting hand on top of Luhan’s, but the gap would never be close enough. “But we can learn together.”

“Together,” Luhan says, testing out the word. It curls out of his tongue as if it’s foreign—as if it’s the first time that he has spoken such a word. And truthfully, Minseok hasn’t heard that word in a long time, even from himself.

“Yes. Together.”

Luhan smiles, warm and inviting. “It doesn’t seem bad to learn again, if it’s with you.”


End file.
